Ginny Grows Up
by i love a parade
Summary: This story includes Ginny, and some random dude. It's placed after graduation from hogwarts. it's not really about being a witch, it's just about trying to "make it" in the world. whatever.


i do not own the harry potter characters, books, or anything else like that. i envy JK Rowling, but i'm not claiming to be anything like her or whatever---  
---i apologise for anyone who thinks i developped Ginny in the wrong way. they don't really elaborate on her charecter in the book, so i made her into my own little type of person---

Ginny sighed and put down the piece of bread she had been tearing into shreds. Ginny like to cook when she needed to think, and because of her big family, there was always cooking to be done. This was good, because lately, Ginny had been thinking more and more. Over the last couple of years, after graduating from Hogwarts, Ginny had developed, in more ways then one. She was no longer a freckly, pug nosed, flat chested child. She was a fair skinned, "pretty" nosed (how do you describe a nose? She still hadn't found a way to describe it), fully breasted lady. And she knew it more then anyone. Her hair was the thing that attracted the most attention. It used to be a sherbet orange sort-of colour, but it had matured along with the rest of her, and now it was more like the luscious reddish brown that they always use in commercials for red hair-dye. Ginny didn't know quite how to handle herself at the beginning, when the catcalls, and pick-up lines had been at their worst (or had she just gotten used to them?). But now she just ignored them, and if one was particularly annoying or rude, she would make a sniffing noise that she had actually gotten quite good at. Or at least she thought she had. Or at least she was more confident with it now. Anyways, Ginny started peeling potatoes, but any fool would easily tell you that her mind was not on vegetables. And that fool would be right, Ginny was thinking about the previous night. She had gone to what looked like a quaint "pubish" type bar, but it had turned out to be far from quaint. As she had traipsed in and took a seat on one of the vinyl stools at the bar's counter, she had heard many whistles, but no one here dared to actually walk up to her. She could hear people whispering about who knows what, and she knew that at least one group was discussing her. One table that was particularly near her though, whispered a little too loudly, and she picked up on the conversation taking place. Boy: 'Holy Shit! She is HOT!' other boy: 'I'd like to leash that pussy-cat' Man: 'What's so beautiful about her?' Now first of all, most people, beautiful or not, would take offence to this. Ginny did not, you see, she didn't think that she was particularly pretty either. Sure she had nice hair, but other than that, she looked just like every other girl in the bar at the time. So when Ginny heard this "man" say that he didn't think she was breath-taking, Ginny wanted to laugh, cry, jump up, fall down, kiss him, and slap him all at the same time. Ginny had never felt like that before, so she did what every other person in this type of situation has done, ordered a margarita, and say do, and look at nothing and no one for the rest of her time in the bar. Then, when she was "done for the day", near closing time, she got up and left as quietly as she could (which wasn't very quiet, since half the bar was still going nuts over her). That night though, as she lay in her bed, she felt very strange. And the more she tried to figure out why she was feeling strange, the more strange she felt. Ginny didn't know it yet, but this strangeness, was the beginning of a thing that a lot of people might call love.

As Ginny finished the potatoes and began tearing up lettuce, she had an idea. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it was a pretty good idea. She decided to go back to that hole in the wall of a bar, find that Man, and show him how breath-taking she could be! So as quickly as she could, she finished making dinner, and ran up to her room to get ready.

Ginny had almost her entire outfit planned out already. This is what she had already picked out : shoes. This may not seem like very much of an outfit, but picture if you will the following shoes, and I think you'll understand. They were the same colour of red as a shot of grenadine (ooc, which if you don't know, is the red stuff in shirley temples). They had at least an inch of heels, if not more. The had a simple 1 ½ band going over the front of her foot, and another 1/8 of an inch of strap going around her ankle. Attached to this ankle strap, were ½ thick ribbon, that snaked all around her legs, up to the knees, in the same way that ribbons do on ballet shoes. These shoes made you look and feel about as sexy as you can be without being naked. Which consequently, Ginny was at the moment, trying to pick out just the right outfit to match the hotness of the shoes that were already on her feet. She flicked quickly through her closet, she was a girl on a mission. She finally found what she had been looking for. A white, stretchy, tight as all get out mini skirt. And when I say mini, I mean mini. This skirt was more the width of an overgrown belt, and so naturally Ginny wore a thong that matched her shoes, because people would more than likely get at least a peek of it before the night was over. This thong was the same colour of red as the shoes, and was made entirely of ribbon. The strings were thin ribbon, and the triangle part at the front was that same ribbon thatched together, like a basket. These were Ginny's all time favorite underwear, so she wore them sparingly, so as not to wear them out. She finally picked out a top too. She wore the bra that matched the g-string that was already settled nicely under her skirt, which was already hugging her hips gracefully. For a shirt, she wore a halter that was red with images of tiny whit bows all over it. It showed the straps, but just the straps, of Ginny's bra, incising everyone to look harder. She looked in her mirror, trying hard to be critical, but she had to admit, even if just to herself, that she looked as good as any hooker she had ever seen. If the man she had seen last night saw her, he would fall instantaneously in love with her. Even if he was gay, he'd switch over in an instant, just to be with her. Her hair, which she traditionally straightened, had been left alone for once, it was curling into gorgeous soft ringlets, beautifully framing her face, and making her violet eyes pop out as if they were tiny neon signs. She told herself, with more confident then she thought she had ever used, that she looked SMOKING! She was glad of it too, she needed to look great if she was going to be able to seduce this man into loving her by the end of the night.

Ginny was used to catcalls and compliments when she entered a bar, after all, they were drunk, and men are always more free with words when they're in a closed, drinking environment. What she wasn't used to, was the same thing on the streets. he had never gotten so many stares in her life, and she took that as a sign that she did look as good as she thought she did. Or she looked like a hooker. But prostitutes have a habit of looking good too, so both situations were welcomed and appreciated. She even got some looks from some women! She figured they were either lesbians, or jealous, but again, either way, Ginny wasn't about to complain.

As she walked into the smoke pit known as "Pikkys", she ignored the whistles, and immediately started to search the room for that attractive, irresistible face she had seen the night before. When she didn't see him though, she visibly lost some of her ambiance and she slouched over to the bar's counter. She started to signify to the bartender that she wanted his attention, but listening and looking at the people and conversations in the bar, she realized that the only reason she hadn't left earlier the night before, was that she was hoping to catch a glimpse, or a snatch of his conversation. Ginny stood up, and trying to put on her game face, walked out of the bar and back up to the non-satanic world above.

Ginny waltzed down the street towards her "at the moment" favorite bar. It was called "Henry's", and it was elegant, and modern, and fabulous. It was fairly famous, and sometimes frequented by celebrities. No one big, just some one semi- rich/famous who happened to drop in after hearing "such good things about it". The locals knew though, they were popping in to get some free service and some even better than free publicity. Ginny liked this about Henry's though, and went there pretty often.

Ginny attempted to walk into Henry's with some form of dignity. She quickly settled herself at a table by the window, in order to be able to see this man if he happened to walk by. She purposely sat at a table with only two chairs. What came next was a pretty big shock. Up walked "the man" and sat down next to her. Ginny was so shockingly happy that she could barely breath let alone talk, or in some way acknowledge him. "Hi" he said. She remembered faintly the next day trying to say something, but she had no idea what, most likely something stupid, and vaguely idiotic at the same time. So it was definitely a good thing when he continued before she could open her mouth. "I know you probably didn't hear me last night when I said that you weren't particularly beautiful, but I want to let you know that I've uh... I've kinda', changed my mind. You look, really, really good. And I know that I don't deserve this at all, and that you've had a million guys tell you this, but if I could have anything, I'd want to have you. And to start over, with "us" for the lack of a better word.". Ginny had more or less regained her composure by this time, so she said "I want the same things, and if we're going to be honest, I look like this for you. I picked out the outfit, and did me hair like this, just for you."

The next morning, Ginny woke up to look at a ceiling that was assuredly not the ceiling in her own room. She tilted her head slightly to look at the pillow next to her, to see the Man, who she discovered the night before, was named Scott. She slowly sat up just enough to be able to manoeuver herself, and lifted up the covers a couple of inches, to see what had gone on the night before. There were no stains on the sheets, and she was wearing the bra and pantie set form the night before. She figured that this was simply because he couldn't find any suitably pajama's for her, and that she hadn't wanted to sleep in her clothes. She recalled that she had had a great time, and that she finally knew what that strange feeling had been. It may not have been quite evolved into love the first time she had felt it, but she definitely knew that it was know. She rolled over so that she was lying on top of Scott, and kissed him awake. "Hello" he breathed into her mouth. "Hello yourself" she breathed back. They quickly picked up where they had left off the night before, going farther faster then Ginny had meant to. They didn't have sex yet, they both decided it was best to wait until they were both absolutely sure before they turned it into a one-night stand. But they went as far as they could without it being construed as sex (i.e. not very far, I mean beyond kissing, how much is there to do really?) So basically, they made out a lot, with a little groping on the side (but not of any "private" areas of the body, if you know what I mean). And when they were done, they both knew that this wasn't going to be just a one night stand.


End file.
